


‘Tis Folly to Be Wise

by Badwxlf



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: EDIT: Broke it into chapters for easier reading!!!, F/M, First Kiss, Hehehe, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Meddling TARDIS, Mickey’s a good boy honest he just hasn’t finished going through his character development yet, Mutual Pining, Pining, Repressed Feelings, The same cannot be said for Adam, should've done this the first go around actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwxlf/pseuds/Badwxlf
Summary: “Nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of existence. And do you know what I’ve learnt?”“What?”“Everything comes and goes.‘Nothing gold can stay,’and you, Rose, shine the brightest, most beautiful gold I have ever seen.”
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 23
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for giving this fic a chance!! ♡ 
> 
> Enjoy :]
> 
> (Fun fact: the first 1800 words were written two years ago, when I first thought this fic up, so if you somehow notice a change in style then that’s probably why?)
> 
>  **EDIT 2/25/2020:** I broke it into 3 chapters for easier reading!! I never realized it would be seen as particularly long haha... I'm so used to reading 26k long chapters and impossibly long fics I never really put it into perspective. Pardon me lol

The first time it happened they were on a visit to the Powell estate. Rose was with Mickey and the pair had retreated farther into the flat to lounge in her room, leaving the Doctor to fend for himself in a conversation against her mum. 

In the face of Jackie’s relentless chatter and suspiciously in-depth gossip, the Doctor could actually feel himself physically deteriorating. His time sense was ridiculously revved-up, making every second that passed especially grating. He quietly mourned the loss of trillions of cells in his body, celebrated the birth of new ones, and contemplated how much more time it would take until the sheer _domesticity_ of it all would force him into his next regeneration.

He was reaching the fragile, frayed edge of his patience when Jackie traded the inane chatter for something even worse: questions. Increasingly personal questions. Not insightful, curious questions about relevant and engaging things like the kind Rose usually provided during their adventures, but useless, baseless questions that weren’t really questions at all. Such as: “You wanna tell me what you get up to in that blue box of yours?” and “How _alien_ are you _really?_ ” and “I know how you feel about my daughter, Doctor, I’m not blind—do you honestly think you can hide something like that from _me?_ ”

They were all questions that gave the Doctor embarrassingly red ears and a horrific need to run, and if he held on for any longer, he would just end up sprinting out of the flat at full speed. So, without answering a single question, he got up, striding from the living room at an impressive pace. Upon his disruption Jackie leapt from her perch on the couch and shot him one last inquiry—”Where are you going?!”—sounding very, very offended.

That one he had to answer. He could feel it in the ghost of a handprint on his cheek. 

Antsy, the Doctor just flashed her a grin and spit out an excuse about how he suddenly remembered having left the TARDIS oven on. He was leaving to get Rose because, for some odd reason, she was the only one able to turn it back off. And, oh, such a _shame_ —TARDIS oven ordeals usually last a few days or so at the least. Imagine that!

“How _convenient_ ,” Jackie said, narrowing her eyes.

“You think?” the Doctor replied, feigning innocence. “Figured ‘ _inconvenient’_ would’ve been the word.”

Jackie sighed, but she didn’t protest when he turned around for the second time. As he traveled the short distance over to Rose’s room, he could hear Jackie behind him, muttering something about rudeness and Martians from outer space. He didn’t comment because he knew she couldn’t possibly be talking about him.

The Doctor reached Rose’s room in no time and promptly burst through the door. It wasn’t locked, so he assumed he didn’t have anything to worry about.

He was wrong.

Laying on the bed, knees dangling off the edge, was Mickey, looking at the Doctor with a particularly harried and adequately startled expression. On top of him, straddling his sides with her hands wedged deep underneath his shirt, was Rose. She looked gorgeously flushed and her hair was slightly tousled, as if fresh from a physically demanding activity. Upon seeing the Doctor, the teasing smile that graced her lips slowly fell away.

He clearly caught them in the middle of something.

Distantly, the Doctor registered the odd sensation of his jaw dropping. Then his eyes locked on Rose’s and the atmosphere became super-charged, creating a catalyst that broke through their frozen states. The shock on Rose’s face rapidly dissolved into mortification.

“Doctor!” she cried, and her voice was panting, breathless. “We—me an’ Mickey, we were—”

The Doctor’s eyes fell from hers and rather obviously landed on her hands, still tucked underneath Mickey’s shirt and clutching at his bare skin. Rose followed the motion and blushed hotly, ripping her hands away before scooting back. Mickey, all of a sudden rather dazed, sat up, watching Rose and the Doctor with weary interest.

“It was just—” Rose began again, but the Doctor interrupted. This encounter was going places he really didn’t want it to.

“No, don’t. I… can… piece things together,” he said.

Her face went a shade almost as violently pink as her room. “It’s probably not what you think it is!”

“Never said anything, me. Sorry for, uh, interrupting.” The Doctor moved to close the door but Rose shot up from the bed and stopped him with a hand on the opposite doorknob and a very hard look.

“Really, Doctor. Not what you think, _”_ Rose swore.

Behind her, Mickey piped up, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, it might be worse.”

“No, don’t listen to him—”

“What? S’nothin’ to be ashamed of. And,” he added, biting his cheek to keep from laughing, “you looked like you were enjoyin’ it earlier.”

“ _Mickey!_ ” she snapped. “Oh my _god!_ Shut. It.”

He bristled. “Why? What do you care if he knows?”

“I don’t! I just—I just don’t like misunderstandings—”

“But why does _this_ misunderstanding even matter?”

Rose’s grip on the doorknob tightened and she tore her eyes from Mickey to quickly glance at the Doctor. She opened her mouth to say something, but she hesitated for a second too long.

“Y’know what? Don’t answer that,” Mickey said, scowling. He flopped backwards onto the bed and stuck his arms behind his head, eyes fixed resolutely to the ceiling.

Rose deflated. “Mickey...” she sighed, trailing off.

The Doctor shifted in place. When he opened the door to Rose’s room, he had no intention of becoming the key to their little lover’s spat. It left him feeling itchy, with pinpricks of discomfort poking through his skin like little goosebumps. He placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and leant in. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. Rose reacted quickly, and, just as he was pulling away, she grabbed a fistfull of his leather jacket.

“Come off it. You’re not leaving until you tell me what you came in here for.”

“Not important, sorry. Just pretend I was never here.”

“Too late for that,” Rose sighed. “You ever hear of knocking?”

The Doctor spared a glance in Mickey’s direction. “Didn’t think it would be necessary.”

“A young couple shut up all cozy in a bedroom, Doctor?” Mickey asked, piping up again. He was still staring at the ceiling. “Thought you were some sorta genius.”

Rose let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly instead. Sensing the bitter undercurrent in Mickey’s tone, something equally bitter sparked up inside him. He decided he really didn’t want to hear any more of this.

“Think I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. Rose quickly lifted her head. She moved to stop him from leaving again, but the Doctor spoke before she could protest. “Just… Get back to whatever it was you two were doing. I’ll wait in the TARDIS.”

Concern creased her brow, concern that the Doctor immediately misinterpreted. He told her not to worry. He could wait. “Take your time,” he said. Then he paused, glancing at Mickey for the slightest second. “Though, with a bloke like him… Might not need it,” he added, under his breath. 

Rose must have heard him. Her eyes widened and, just for a second, her grip on the door fell slack.

Later, the Doctor ignored Jackie’s questioning look when he stalked out of the flat without Rose in tow and ignored, much less successfully, his own churning thoughts. To keep from thinking about Rose, her idiot boyfriend, and why he, for some reason, loathed the thought of them in her bedroom alone, he settled in to tinker with the TARDIS.

He only had to wait a little over seven minutes before she met him in the console room, looking not the slightest bit pleased. 

“Finished already?” he asked, weak against that childish part of him. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, stuff it,” she sighed, plopping onto the jump seat. 

Guess he was right.

* * *

The second time it happened they were fresh from Van Statten’s bunker and accompanied by a new, rather _pretty_ , guest. Adam was what the Doctor would consider the presumptuous child prodigy type: steeped in supposedly above average intelligence and unaware of his own limited scope of the universe. He was cocksure, convinced in his own judgement. He wasn’t someone the Doctor would’ve personally chosen to serve as a companion, but he relented because Rose took an interest in him.

Oh, an _interest…_ There was definitely some sort of subtext in that. The Doctor could see it in the way they drifted coyly around each other, smiling, voices low. He knew it. But everyone was tired and the adventure was over, so he decided to ignore it. It wasn’t his business and he really wasn’t in the mood to antagonize Rose’s new boyfriend. Yet.

The Doctor was more concerned about the Dalek; about what it did to him and what he almost did in return. Something in him shifted during and after the war. It changed him and while he, at least, acknowledged that, he didn’t notice how _much_ he’d changed or precisely _what_ he changed into until the Dalek escaped. He became rather hopeless—almost akin to a monster—in his loneliness and grief… Broken by the loss of his people, he was wrathful and unforgiving. Vengeful. Militaristic, in a way. He loathed guns and what they represented in every life he led, yet there he had been: ready to fire even as his precious companion defiantly stood her ground. 

Rose saved him. She did the impossible: she showed a Dalek compassion, commanded it, and _lived_.

He risked the entire universe for her.

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor figured that the best, and soonest, way to start shocking Adam off of his high horse was to let Rose give him a tour. With a dimensionally transcendental, absolutely beautiful, thoroughly marvellous time ship like his? Surely, Adam stood no chance. The boy was about to have his horizons _broadened_.

Rose disappeared down the corridors with Adam following dazedly behind, and once the Doctor could no longer hear their voices, he made his way to his own quarters. He hadn’t slept in weeks, really, and despite his best efforts his fatigue was finally catching up with him. He was overdue for a rest.

The Doctor managed to shed his leather jacket and remove his jumper before he heard conversation floating through the hallway and seeping into his room. Confused, he briefly consulted his knowledge of the TARDIS’s current layout. It didn’t make sense; his room was nowhere near any of the areas Rose had in mind for the tour. He should have been spared from their flirting for at least a few more hours. 

That meant Rose either deviated from her plans or… or the TARDIS did some remodeling.

The voices in the hallway suddenly shifted in tone. They sounded lower, as if spoken in greater proximity to each other, and more… urgent. The Doctor felt himself tense. Adam’s voice was a murmur, placating, unintelligible yet insistent. Rose’s voice was harried, almost strained, bordering on breathless.

Were they really…? Outside the Doctor’s own room?

Yeah, no.

The Doctor quickly slipped his jumper back on and opened his door.

“Oi, you two, shouldn’t you be—“ he began, stepping out, but then his voice died as he took in the sight before him.

Rose stood braced against one of the coral pillars lining the halls of the TARDIS, a fresh, pink blush tinting her cheeks. In front of her, torso inches from her own, stood Adam, one hand on her hip and the other beside her head, bearing his weight upon the coral. Her own hands were against his chest, the position undeniably intimate.

Adam hadn’t noticed the Doctor’s entrance, even as intrusive as it was, so the Time Lord got to witness the young man’s hand snake higher up her torso, watch as he leaned in to whisper in Rose’s ear. His whisper made her shiver, his lips ghosting over her skin. The Doctor’s hearts grew cold.

Oblivious Adam. Foolish, arrogant, oblivious Adam.

It was Rose who noticed him first. As soon as she caught sight of the Doctor, surprise colored her cheeks a deeper red and she reflexively pushed Adam away, causing him to stumble off her with a comical _oof_ and a confused look. Adam turned to follow Rose’s eyes and paled.

“D-Doctor, what’re—wasn’t your room…“ Rose stammered.

“No, ‘fraid not. It’s right here, apparently. Huh, fancy that,” he said, punctuating the statement with an obviously faked intrigued perusal of his surroundings. “And you two were… _canoodling_ right in front of it. Great choice. Nothin’ short of amazing, that,” the Doctor frowned. “I could hear you right through the door. Wasn’t gonna say anything, me, but I was gettin’ ready for bed.”

“I—I’m sorry—“ Adam piped up, genuinely remorseful, but the Doctor waved him away.

The Doctor’s words were casual and reassuring, but his face looked… How would one describe it? Like the subdued sky before a rainstorm. A countenance as confounding and contradictory as the man himself. 

“Oh, don’t worry! What am I, her keeper? Don’t let this daft old fool stop you. Do whatever you two want, _but do it somewhere else_ ,” he said. He intoned the last line with only an ounce more gravity than his usual amiable lilt, but Rose, clever and perceptive as always, caught it regardless. She bristled.

It must’ve been the fatigue, the Doctor thought. It must’ve been the ordeal with the Dalek, because he was having a harder time than usual accepting her galavanting off with some pretty boy tonight. It must’ve been her bravery, glistening golden in her eyes when she stood up to him earlier. It must’ve been the lingering memory of her arms around him, deep down in that bunker, soothing the bitter pain of the entire encounter, that kept him from maintaining that breezy indifference of his.

Did Rose see it? That blossoming, unwarranted jealousy of his? Could she see that careful shade of green in his eyes?

It must’ve been ugly.

Noticing Rose’s tense stance, the Doctor rapidly slapped a smile on his face and upped the ante on his façade.

“Well, sorry for ruining the mood. Selfish, me. How about you two get on your way—“ he gently nudged both of them forward with one hand each on either of their backs—“and I can get a couple hours rest. Sound good?”

Rose found her voice. “Doctor, wait, listen! I wasn’t gonna let Adam—“

Adam shot her a hurt look, and Rose faltered, the words dying upon her lips. The Doctor witnessed her momentary lapse and interpreted it as embarrassment.

“No need to be shy, Rose. You, Aiden, what’re you looking so down for? Don’t need explainin’ to, me, so go jaunting off all you like,” he beamed. 

He’d gotten the guy’s name wrong on purpose. 

Adam’s frown deepened and protests lay dogpiled upon Rose’s lips, but the Doctor pulled away, having shooed them far enough. He was quick to get rid of them, quick to hide, but he paused beside his bedroom door, one hand on the door knob.

When Rose turned around, perhaps to stop him once more, the Doctor flashed her a small smile. Exhaustion muted the blue of his eyes. 

“Good night, Rose,” he said. 

Her love life was none of his business, after all.

* * *

The third time it happened, Jack had been aboard for more than a few days.

Jack. Now, Jack was certainly something. 

He managed to charm Rose, which wouldn’t be too terribly strange since he was most definitely her type, but then he managed to charm _the Doctor_ too, and he _definitely_ wasn’t his type. Jack Harkness, although very unconventional and by all means someone the Doctor would’ve gladly initially brushed off, proved himself to be a good man, a strong ally, and downright clever as well. Irritatingly flirtatious habits aside, he was a fantastic companion and a good friend.

He was the kind of man the Doctor knew would make Rose perfectly happy, and protect her, too. Give her that bit of adventure her free spirit craved while still keeping her safe. He was someone who suited her more than some barmy nine hundred year old alien, at least.

So it shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did when he walked into them one rare, lazy Earth-hour afternoon, lounging in the media room. 

It wasn’t like all the other times he’d walked in on Rose with one of her little human boyfriends. Those instances were dripping with hints of sexual frustration and dipped in improper quantities of proximity; they were clear indications of youth, textbook examples of what the Time Lords would’ve considered an aspect of their primitive, human natures. No, this… It was sweet. Singular in its intimacy, almost. Special. 

Rose was sitting on the sofa, adorned only in fuzzy, animal-print pajama bottoms and a comfy old t-shirt. Her hair was clipped up carelessly in a low bun, and, right along with her, stretched leisurely across the expanse of their seat, was Jack, dressed down in his own borrowed jimjams. His head was cushioned in her lap and he smiled up at her, grinning salaciously. Undoubtedly, he was enticing her with another crude joke or compliment, and it must’ve been working because she was laughing her usual beautiful, brilliant laughter. She ran her hands through his hair with one hand as she jokingly, lightly, smacked his arm with the other. In front of them, on the TARDIS’s telly, some cheesy alien romcom from the seventy-sixth century tried its best to put on a show, only to be met with deaf ears. Caught up in each other, they hardly paid attention to it.

They only managed to snap out of it when the Doctor plopped himself on the armchair next to them. 

They both greeted him warmly, smiles on their faces. The Doctor’s chest ached at their happiness, equal parts affection and melancholy, and he greeted them back. They looked like a pretty picture he shouldn’t have disturbed. Walking in the room, he was tempted to turn around, to pretend he didn’t see a thing, but at the same time, he wanted to stick himself right in. Wanted the image to shatter as much as he wanted it framed.

“Having fun, then?” he teased.

“You’re finally here,” Rose enthused. “Jack, tell the Doctor what you just told me. The story! C’mon!” she poked his cheek imploringly, and Jack chuckled, sitting up.

“Anything for you, Rosie,” Jack winked, before turning to face the Doctor and motioning him to lean closer. “This one’s a wild one, Doc, you sure you can take it?”

The Doctor sniffed, humorously feigning indignance. “You’re asking _me?”_

“Hey, playing it safe, y’know? Wouldn’t wanna arouse your fragile sensibilities,” Jack grinned.

Rose cut in. _“You?_ Playin’ it safe? Jack, you’re almost as bad as the Doctor,” she chuckled. “Playin’ it safe!”

“Oi! What d’you mean as bad as me?”

Rose offered the slighted Time Lord a saucy grin as his only answer before she nudged Jack with her elbow. “Just do like you always do and dive right into it, Jack.”

“My, oh my, Doc, if I didn’t know any better I’d say our Rose is feeling pretty cheeky today.”

She dropped her head on Jack’s shoulder, chuckling. “‘M just happy, that’s all. Still laughin’ from when you told _me_ ,” Rose said. She peeked out, her cheek resting on the fabric of Jack’s shirt. “An’ excited,” she smiled, “to spend the time in together like normal mates for once.”

“We spend every day together,” the Doctor said, puzzled. He envied Jack for a moment, having Rose cling to him so casually, so comfortably. In his armchair, the Doctor was too far to effortlessly reach.

Rose lifted her head from Jack’s shoulder and shook it. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Doctor, runnin’ from near-death experiences every waking hour and collapsing on the grating when we’re back in the TARDIS is fun and all, but… Like, yeah, it’s gorgeous, the running, keeps me fit—“

“Very fit,” Jack nodded sagely, and Rose smacked him.

“—but sometimes I just wanna sit with you in front of the telly, yeah? Talkin’ and just… Enjoyin’ each others’ presence and all.”

The Doctor didn’t know what to say, so he defaulted to a more automatic response. “Sounds awfully domestic to me,” he said.

Rose scoffed, waving him away. “Oh, I just knew you’d say that,” she sighed. She didn’t seem all that upset, but it was clear that she bore just a hint of disappointment. “You get what I’m sayin’ though, don’t you, Jack?”

“Crystal clear, sweetheart,” Jack said. “Some R&R: rest and recuperation.”

“Yep,” Rose nodded.

“ _Humans_ ,” the Doctor snorted, starting to feel a bit rejected. “Don’t you lot get plenty of ‘ _R &R’ _ every night? Sleepin’ half of your lives away, you are.”

“Rest and _recreation_ , rather,” Jack amended.

“You never had a weekend in, Doctor?” Rose asked. “Where you just muck about in the TARDIS for a day or two?”

The Doctor frowned. Was this some sort of roundabout method of telling him they were tired? That they wanted to go back home? But, no, that couldn’t have been it. They enjoyed themselves on his ship, he knew that much. 

“Why stay in when there’s an entire universe out there?” 

“Well…” Rose trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her argument.

The Doctor sighed. “How’s this, then? I know a few resort planets. Popular hotspots in each of their galaxies, perfect for a vacation, and I can get us reservations. No problem. If you want to be layabouts, might as well lounge in a place worth remembering.”

Jack looked intrigued at the prospect, and one look told the Doctor that he’d won the man over. However, while Rose looked tempted, she bit her lip, still appearing uncertain. 

“The TARDIS _is_ a place worth rememberin’, Doctor,” she said.

The Doctor paused, eyes widening. “That’s—That’s not… She _is_. You’re right; unforgettable, my TARDIS, but… Oh, you know what I mean, Rose.” 

Accidentally insulting his own precious timeship was the last thing he was trying to do. Give it to Rose Tyler, always seeing and hearing what he couldn’t. Even when it came out of his own mouth. 

Still, Rose wasn’t satisfied. “Yeah, I get what you mean, but you don’t get what _I_ mean. Time alone. Does that sound familiar?” She sighed again, leaning into Jack’s side. In response, however unconsciously, Jack draped a lazy arm over Rose’s shoulder. “Quality time together? Without all those distracting disasters the universe likes to throw at us for some reason?”

The Doctor eyed their intimate positions and felt something rotten rise within him once again. An unsightly sensation, growing increasingly familiar as the days grew by, cut into his skin from the inside out like small, prickly thorns. The Doctor never dared to let that weed of an emotion grow, never let it encompass the burnt, barren garden of his hearts, but it came close every time. Grown from the tiniest, most inconsequential seeds, the Doctor could only feel shame in their propensity to take root. Jack’s arm, draped so casually over Rose’s shoulder, almost like it belonged, and Rose, leaning into him with such picturesque comfort, provided the perfect nutrients for an ugly, bitter fruit.

It struck the Doctor then, that perhaps Rose was arguing for all of this as a means of requesting, as politely and discreetly as she could, the Doctor’s aid. Some alone time with the Time Agent. Some quality time with the man she loved, hidden away within the TARDIS’s winding corridors. Away from uncomfortable alien eyes.

The thought sharpened the thorns to a fine tapered point. It cut. It bled.

Yet it had no right to.

The Doctor nodded as if he finally understood and gently smiled. An idea came to light in his mind. “Of course it sounds familiar, Rose.”

Rose straightened, hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely! In fact—” the Doctor’s tone shifted, like he was a stereotypical salesman offering an irresistible deal—”why don’t we spend the next forty-eight hours right here? A weekend in. I’ll keep the TARDIS parked in the Vortex for just a little while longer,” he said.

“That’s great!” Rose beamed, bright and blinding.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about, Doc!” Jack laughed. “I knew you’d get it.”

Rose scooted back, patting the unoccupied side of the sofa, free of Jack’s sprawled form. “C’mon, sit here,” she said, “let’s watch some trashy intergalactic telly.” Her grin was teasing and inviting, with a bit of her tongue poking through her teeth, and the Doctor almost wavered from his newfound resolution.

Ah, but Jack’s arm was still around her. His fingers tapped a silent rhythm upon her shoulder, following the upbeat pomp of the ignored romcom’s ending theme song. A nice reminder. The Doctor knew better than to deprive his golden girl of her desires.

“‘Fraid not, Rose. Maybe next time,” he said. 

Her smile faltered. “Oh?”

“Yep, but don’t you worry. Just remembered I had a couple errands to run ‘round here for the ol’ girl.”

“Really?” Jack asked, sounding… skeptical. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Well, the opportunity just never presented itself,” the Doctor said. “Now, I’ll just be on my way…“ He got up from his armchair to start making his way to the doors, but paused when he saw Rose and Jack rising too. He admonished them with a few stern tut’s. “Oh, sit down. I can handle them myself.”

“If they’re repairs, I can help—” Jack offered, but the Doctor shut him down.

“Been doing repairs myself for centuries, thanks. More than capable, me.”

“But—”

“Just keep cuddlin’ on the couch,” the Doctor chuckled, pushing them both back down with a hand on their shoulders. “I won’t be long. I’ll plonk this old bum down right next to you soon as I’m done.”

Rose hesitated. The Doctor could practically feel her suspicion himself, hear the uncertainty flickering through her mind. Luckily, it subsided.

“Alright…” she acquiesced. “Finish up soon, ‘kay? If you take too long, I’m makin’ you watch one of mum’s soaps.”

The Doctor shuddered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last word of parting, the Doctor waved good-naturedly and disappeared from the media room. He left the two newfound lovebirds perched on the couch, twin looks of unease plastered on their faces, but now… with plenty of time alone.

* * *

The Doctor lied through his teeth. 

He had no plans of joining them on the sofa that twenty-four hours, or the next. He set an internal alarm, and for almost two full Earth days he was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor cursed as he reached for a wrench and found it, once again, missing. Poking his head up from underneath one of the TARDIS’s supplementary heating systems (the one devoted, specifically, to maintaining and regulating the temperature of the heat-sensitive storage rooms and… the hot tubs, actually), he caught sight of it several meters away, perched precariously on the edge of an open grate. It looked ready to tip into the wiring below upon the slightest vibration.

This was the fifth time it’s gotten displaced, and it took a bit of searching to find it after every disappearance.

“Oh, let it go, will you?” the Doctor sighed, speaking to no one in particular. 

Save the very air around him, that is. 

The TARDIS was displeased with his actions lately, it seemed, and she displayed that displeasure readily, manipulating his entire environment. The lights overhead flickered for a moment before a sense of reproach eased into his mind. An obvious rejection.

A sentient, powerful, living remnant of his species’ most profound technological and scientific advancements… Fixated on passive-aggressive pranks.

“Unbelievable!” he muttered, carefully rescuing his wrench.

Forty hours have passed since the Doctor declared their little weekend in the Vortex, and he’d managed to avoid crossing paths with his two companions the entire time. Oh, it wasn’t easy. Certainly not. Especially since the TARDIS seemed particularly dead-set on thwarting his considerate efforts, rearranging her layout with a sadistic, labyrinthine intensity undoubtedly intended to purposefully confuse him. Tear away familiarity with his own ship, after all, and he’d be just as good as any fresh face that wanders aboard. It was a handicap, essentially. 

The TARDIS must’ve been utilizing enormous quantities of energy just to juggle him into one of his companion's arms. Rose the most often. But the Doctor was clever. The smartest higher-order thinker any side of any galaxy. He made do, of course.

He just didn’t expect to have to fight his own ship.

Suddenly, the Doctor startled. He heard footsteps thudding in the distance, somewhere down the left-most corridor.

Before everything, this room used to be a part of the lesser-traveled sections on his beloved ship. One of the sections visited for the occasional maintenance check at most, left in the TARDIS’s own care for the majority of the time. Now, it, and sections like it, experienced an exponential increase in foot traffic as they merged pathways with areas more suited to daily living.

The Doctor could hear familiar voices filtering in through the walls. Voices he missed a lot, as dull as the sentiment might’ve been.

However, he promised forty-eight hours. It was only a quarter past the fortieth and that simply would not do. He stepped forward, intent on escaping through the door farthest from them, but as his right foot met the grating… It sunk. The floor was loose beneath his foot and he came crashing forward, half of his lower body dumped straight into the circuitry beneath.

There was no way this wasn’t completely intentional. The Doctor cursed, and when he realize he couldn’t move his leg, tangled so deliberately as it was in metal and wires, he sent a strongly-worded, less-than-polite telepathic _thank you_ in the TARDIS’s direction.

The lights merely flickered once again in response.

His fall wasn’t quiet. The voices of his companions, already steadily growing louder, responded to the raucous racket of his crash with excitement, and their even steps dissolved into heavy footfalls running to meet him.

Hands frantically plunging through every leather pocket for his sonic, the Doctor tried in vain to shake his leg free, only serving to further entangle him in his ship’s trap. One poorly direction’d shimmy had the Doctor wobbling, and his sonic screwdriver tumbled out of his grasp, past the depths encasing his leg, and down, deep into the unknown.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

* * *

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Rose admonished. With her hands on her hips, standing over him, her brows drawn in smoldering fury, she looked like a spitting image of her mother.

The Doctor only pursed his lips, looking away. He sat resolutely, with a rather stubborn, prideful air about him—not unlike the kind he’d usually adopt when wrongfully imprisoned—and his hands were tied securely behind his back. His sonic was nowhere in sight.

After Rose and Jack caught him with his metaphorical pants down, they encircled him like hawks. Both of his companions made sure to free him, but not without first ensuring his complete transfer into a different trap entirely; it wouldn’t suit all their hard work prior, searching for him with such resolute vigor, to have him escape as soon as they found him, after all. So they tied him up and led him into the next room over.

Ironically, it turned out to be the media room. The same place he’d left them before.

They plopped him down onto the sofa and Rose took charge, ignoring his indignant fussing.

“C’mon, then! Your excuse?”

He mumbled something unintelligible. From beside her, Jack shot the Doctor a look of pity yet carefully maintained his distance, seemingly content to just watch the events unfold.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Rose said, anything but apologetic. She leaned forward, stern and unyielding. Strong woman, she was, Rose Tyler. Precisely the characteristic that, although now turned against him, had charmed the Doctor in the first place. When he didn’t repeat himself, she huffed. 

“I swear to God, Doctor, if you don’t start talkin’ I’m keeping you here and puttin’ my mum on the phone—”

The Doctor’s head snapped forward, eyes widening in terror. “No—”

“—An’ tellin’ her I’m _pregnant_.”

 _“No!”_ the Doctor gasped.

Rose pulled back, reaching into her jeans pocket to slip out her mobile. She flipped it open, staring at the screen in careful consideration before meeting the Doctor’s eyes. The message was clear. She was serious.

And Jackie was on speed dial.

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk, just—Rose, please,” the Doctor pleaded. Rassilon, the _horror._

“Please what?” she murmured, impassive. Her thumb toyed with a key on her mobile.

“I… I…”

“You, you…?”

“I was just tryin’ to help,” he finally managed.

“ _Help?_ That’s what you thought this was?” Rose asked, incredulous. “Help with what, Doctor? Abandoning us for two entire days—“

“Forty and a half hours,” the Doctor mumbled. She shot him a glare and he clamped his mouth back shut.

“Abandoning us for _forty and a half hours_ ,” she repeated, making it clear the distinction did not matter in the slightest, “after promising us a weekend together?”

“You got one, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, right good weekend _that_ was. Leavin’ us as soon as it started, talking ‘bout some stinkin’ _errands_.” She slipped her phone back in her pocket and a fraction of the Doctor’s tensity alleviated. “What errands? Errands my arse! You’ve just been hiding!”

“I had some!” the Doctor said, defensive. “I did!”

“Well, that’s what we believed at first too. Then, we finished five movies and nature called. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find the loo,” Rose said.

From behind them, Jack sighed, nodding. Rose was breaching a crucial topic, it seemed, and he looked rather harried too.

She continued: “I had to hold it for _another_ hour _,_ Doctor, until I finally found it! An hour of nothin’ but searching with my bladder half bursting! Stumbled into the library at least ten times before I even so much as _hallucinated_ a toilet!”

The Doctor cringed. That did, indeed, sound bad.

“Couldn’t even make it bad to the media room after I was done, either. Got stuck in a circuit through the kitchen, Jack’s bedroom, and the wardrobe. God, Doctor, what’ve you been _doing?”_

Incensed, and obliged to defend himself, the Doctor straightened. “Oi, a little quick on the call, aren’t you? I’m innocent. Not much for interior design, me.”

“I’d say it was pretty suspicious that the TARDIS suddenly turns herself into a maze as soon as you run off, Doc,” Jack cut in.

“Definitely,” Rose agreed. She met the Doctor’s guileless gaze with resolute eyes. “You’re always harpin’ on, sayin’ the TARDIS is alive. If you didn’t do it directly, then you must’ve pissed her off, yeah?”

The Doctor froze. She was right on the ball with that one. Ever perceptive, his Rose, and usually, he’d be praising her for it. Now, however, he just felt incriminated.

“Might’ve done,” he murmured, looking away.

“I knew it!” Rose cried. Jack stepped closer to stand next to Rose, patting her on the back. She sighed, her frustration visibly fading with the slump of her shoulders.

“How’d you do it?” Jack asked.

“What?”

Jack grinned, humor a-twinkle in his eyes. “How’d you piss off an entire ship? Pretty impressive, I’ll admit. Couldn’t have done it even if I tried. Okay, okay, I’ve managed the _people_ in it, but never the ship itself, and that’s besides the point.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“You know what they say: the road to hell…” Jack trailed off, shrugging.

The Doctor recognized the proverb. _Good intentions_ … Well.

With reluctance, the Doctor at last gave in. He shifted in his restraints.

“The TARDIS was trying to lead me back to you,” he said.

“Lead you back…? So you _were_ hidin’ from us?” Rose asked. Questions contorted her brow. “What for?”

Jack’s expression was very much the same. “If you didn’t want to watch TV, Doc, we were open to suggestions.”

“Never did like sittin’ front o’the telly, come to think of it. But that’s not what I kept away for.” The Doctor’s ears tinted a slight shade of pink. “Figured you two wanted to be alone. ‘Quality time’ you said, Rose. Thought I’d run off, get some other stuff done in the meantime. The TARDIS didn’t take to it, kept turnin’ me around.”

Jack looked a bit odd, boasting an image akin to a mixture of ‘stunned’ and ‘irrevocably confused’. “Well, no wonder!” he exclaimed.

“What the _hell_ would make you think we wanted to _avoid_ you?” Rose asked, frustration returning. “I said ‘quality time _together_ ’, Doctor! Not ‘quality time chasing a madman through some barmy maze’!”

The Doctor sniffed, uncomfortable. If the TARDIS hadn’t thought to meddle, then they would’ve had their happily ever after, he would get some peace, and everything would’ve been hunky dory. Neither of them would’ve noticed his lists of errands to do really wasn’t all that long.

“I know that,” he groused. “I just thought ‘together’ meant ‘together without _me’_.”

_“How?!”_

Rose looked gobsmacked. It was as if, for once, the Doctor actually managed to reach absurd enough heights of alienness that his actions were completely irreconcilable in her human eyes. Their last action prior to his departure was, after all, to invite him to sit next to them. Have a few laughs. It didn’t make sense. They must’ve been wondering: what could possibly have led to such a drastic disparity in thought?

“Rose…” the Doctor sighed, “do you know what I saw when I walked into the room that day?”

She blinked in suspicion. “No.”

He smiled, almost rueful. “You and Jack, of course. Oh, it was a lovely sight. A perfect pair you two make, right pretty, too.”

Neither of them said a thing. The Doctor nodded toward Jack. His voice was bright, but an odd sort of tension had grown in the air. 

“Head on her lap! Adorable. And combin’ her fingers through your fringe! Wasn’t half diabetic at the sight, really. Almost had to stop by the infirmary, me.”

“Doctor, that was just—”

“Wasn’t the first time I walked into anything either, but this time was different. Made me realize that I might’ve messed somethin’ up. Maybe this time it was serious.”

Jack listened in disbelief. “‘Serious’?” he echoed.

“Point is, Rose,” the Doctor shifted his gaze, locking eyes with her. “I wanted to make it up to you, as discreetly as I could. For the social life I’ve scared away. For the love I hadn’t let you feel.”

“What…?” she whispered.

He offered a wry smile. “Always ruinin’ the mood, me. Never did let you get a proper date in.”

“Hold on, so you thought… Me an’ Jack… You thought I was askin’ for _date night_ with _Jack?”_

“Aw, Rosie, you don’t have to make it sound so unappealing,” Jack pouted, but Rose paid him no mind.

The Doctor’s brows furrowed. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes! _Very!”_ Rose huffed, astounded by the Doctor’s absurdity. “You—I can’t _believe—”_

She looked about ready to die of exasperation. But then she paused for a moment and let out a heavy, steady breath before speaking.

“Doctor, we’re just good mates. There’s nothin’ going on.”

The Doctor’s doubt was practically inscribed upon his face.

“I wouldn’t care if there was,” he lied, aiming for reassuring but not quite cutting it.

He liked to think he figured Rose out well enough, liked to believe he understood her. This youthful little human who stood so steadily before him, both complex and straightforward, paradoxically contrary yet so precisely expectable, was already etched firmly into both of the Doctor’s hearts. He followed her through her predictable routines, witnessed in pride her many surprises. However recent their acquaintance might be in the grand scheme of the universe, he knew her. He hoped he knew her. 

And Jack was perfect for her. Swept her off her feet, quite literally. To her, Jack was an improved echo of the Doctor’s visage, coupled with the dating and the dancing, and made complete with that suave, seductive style.

From a purely objective standpoint, she should have been thoroughly, irredeemably charmed.

Rose frowned at the Doctor’s skepticism, and something seemed to occur to her.

“You mentioned somethin’—somethin’ about having walked into things before. D’you mean that time with Mickey? An’ Adam?”

The Doctor scoffed despite himself, not keen on remembering. “The two idiots. Ignorance _is_ bliss.”

Hearing him and flushing red, Rose decided she had enough. 

She stepped forward and took him soundly by the head, a hand framing either of his cheeks. It caught both the Doctor _and_ Jack off-guard. When the Doctor grunted in surprise, she quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to shush him. “Now, listen to—yeah, yeah, uncomfy, you are, I know. But _listen_ to me, Doctor. You run away every time I try to explain, so I—“

The Doctor shook his head in defiance.

“Yeah, you do!” she said, capturing him within her gaze. Her eyes, a deep brown that drowned him in rich wildflower honey, compelled him into rapt focus faster than any twisting nebula. “You run like—like you don’t wanna listen, like it’s stupid ape stuff, but you _have to_ , ‘cause nothing is what you’re thinkin’ it is!”

He glowered, at a sudden loss, before indicating her to release his mouth. She didn’t budge.

“Swear you’ll hear me out?”

He tried his best to nod, his lips pressed into a frown beneath her palm. 

“Promise?”

He nodded once more. With his hands tied behind him and lodged between the sofa and his back, he knew they couldn’t see him cross his fingers. A childish display of his defiance. 

However, mid-finger cross, he felt something odd about the ropes restraining him. 

_Hold on… Is that…?_

Rose looked doubtful, so the Doctor eased the crease in his brow and tried for pleading. If what he felt upon the ropes was what he thought it was, he needed her to let go of him. 

He looked her in the eyes, and her expression softened. It worked. 

“Alright,” Rose said. She let him go and plopped beside him on the sofa. 

However, when she turned back to face him, she was greeted with a terrible surprise: the Doctor sat right there, flexing his wrists. Unbound. 

“ _How?!”_

“Been around, learned a few tricks,” the Doctor answered simply, avoiding her offended gaze with a shrug of his shoulders. He didn’t break his nodded promise because he crossed his fingers, after all. “Helps that you two used a simple knot, though I didn’t realize until now. Fifty-first century marauder’s knot. Tricky little thing; only _looks_ impressive, not the best for keepin’ prisoners.” He bent down to untie his ankles. 

Rose shot Jack an accusatory glare. He held up both his hands, all innocence.

“Hey, I didn’t think we were going to keep him long. Not seriously. Plus,” Jack added, “I like the marauder’s. It’s convenient and visually appealing.”

Rose pressed the bridge of her nose with a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “I’m _so_ gonna kill you after this,” she groaned. Meanwhile, the Doctor kicked the rope from his boots and bounded up off the couch. Before he could get far, Rose shot off her seat as well, grabbing his leather-shielded arm. “I’m gonna kill you _both_ after this,” she amended.

“Why do you want this so much?” the Doctor asked, almost desperate. He tried to shake her grip away, but it proved unsuccessful as he held back the strength in his arm, weary of hurting her. He tried instead to use his free hand in order to pry her off him, but she held fast, bringing forward her own free hand to lie on top of his. He watched it enclose over him and he sucked in a breath. “Why don’t we just forget it, Rose?” he offered.

“I don’t want to,” she said, stubborn. The heat of her palm slowly suffused through his skin. “This is botherin’ you and I want it all out of the way—”

“Bothering me? I’ve said this before, Rose: it’s none of my business, and I’m not looking to _make_ it my business. I don’t _care_ about your pointless human hookups. I have no intention of—”

“But it _does_ bother you, Doctor! If it’s really that useless, if you really don’t care, why do you try everythin’ to make me shut up? _Why?”_ She tightened her grip on him, keeping her voice steady, her words flowing forth in a manner that forbade interruption. “You shouldn’t have to insist. Don’t think I’m dense! Everythin’ else unimportant goes in one ear an’ out the other—but _this_ you can’t ignore. So you get pissy an’ sulky and push everything thousands of galaxies away.”

Fluid, she cut straight through him, her accuracy leadening the marrow of his bones and effectively locking him in place. The Doctor pressed his lips into a solid line, his countenance now stormy, saturnine steel. 

“Rose…” he began, but she could already tell what would come next. Shoulders squared, she moved to make her point before he could cast it down.

“That one time, at home, with Mickey! You walked in, I was on top of him!” In his peripheral vision, the Doctor caught Jack’s eyes widening. Rose spoke hurriedly, outburst after outburst. “I was all over him, and he was a git about it, but we weren’t shaggin’! It was a tickle fight!”

The Doctor was poised to protest, but then her words registered. _“A tickle fight?”_ he echoed, dubious. She didn’t clarify further, opting instead to plough forward, as if she expected the Doctor to evaporate at any second, willing the atoms of his hand to remain solid beneath hers.

“And that other time! With Adam! He had me up against the wall!” Her expression turned ugly, like she thought of something particularly unpleasant. Witnessing it brought the Doctor no small sense of satisfaction. “It was a total come-on—one that I did _not_ appreciate—and I would’ve pushed him away even if you hadn’t come swannin’ in!”

“Er…”

Rose lifted her index finger to his lips. “Hush,” she said, continuing. “Now, this time! With Jack! Head on my lap!” 

She finally slowed down, her tone still imposing, yet only half as insistent. Fixing him with a sincere, affectionate gaze, she pat his hand, which, by now, he had long since forgotten he could shift away. “Well, we’re best mates, Doctor… I’m always up for a nice lounge with a friend. A bit of dumb messin’ around, a hug, a cuddle. All that good stuff, yeah? Nothin’ I wouldn’t wanna do with you, too,” she finished.

“You…” There was something hard in his throat, but he managed to speak anyway. “You make me sound like I’m jealous.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what you are?”

The Doctor recoiled, sputtering, offended at the mere prospect. _“Jealous? Me?”_

Rose dropped both her grips on the Doctor, and as soon as they were free, they distanced themselves and folded their arms across their chests. Both of them mirrored each other, determined.

“I am _not_ jealous.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she snorted. “Admit it! You don’t want your little earthling pal goin’ on play dates without you. Nine hundred years and you’re actin’ ten.”

“That’s not right,” the Doctor said.

“Then what _is?_ Doctor, I told you: you’re stuck with me. Even if I see some cute guy I’ll still be turnin’ around and hoppin’ aboard the TARDIS.”

“You’d be leaving them behind,” he pointed out.

“Well, that’s why I’m not with anyone anymore, now isn’t it? ‘Course, that also means there’s nothing for you to be jealous for. Not like there ever would be.” She grinned at him. “You’re better than any boyfriend,” she said.

Hearing those words, paired so beautifully with her sincere smile, the Doctor’s chest felt about ready to burst.

He’d known it, really, that she’d been aching to tell him the real story, to talk to him, ever since she noticed how he kept dodging away. Rather counterintuitive, his actions, leading the spotlight to land upon his fears as opposed to away from them, but… Running was his specialty. It was all he could muster the strength to do. 

The Doctor thought himself a better man than this. He wasn’t the greatest man alive, no, definitely not, but surely, he must have matured at least a little throughout his many lives, his painfully long years. But he hadn’t. He realized Rose Tyler had both of his hearts wholly within her possession, yet rather than satisfy himself with that love alone, he grew selfish. If he could not have her heart in return, he’d rather not know to whom, or how to that whom, she’d give it.

It was ironic. It was childish. It was stupid. 

He’d rather remain ignorant then wisen to the bitter truth he feared she’d tell. 

The Doctor’s stance relaxed, his arms falling from their defensive position before him. Instinctively, he stepped forward, closer, feeling more than a slight bit foolish.

“Is that right?” he asked her, searching her eyes for some of that enthralling sincerity, that intoxicating taste of affection she tended to spare him.

“Mmhm,” she hummed.

“No competition, then?”

“Yep.”

He smiled, and the sight of it visibly delighted her. She let him close that remaining distance, let him take her hand in his own. Once he did, Rose entwined their fingers together, naturally, effortlessly, as they were often wont to do.

She chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she said.

“See what?”

“You. All pouty and jealous ‘cause I might wanna flirt a little. Y’know, I thought you’d just shrug or quip or something… Not notice. Not _really_.” Her smile faltered just barely, her gaze dropping down to their clasped hands. “I thought you’d let me go when you finally do, kick me out if it was gettin’ annoying, all that extra human baggage I’ll be dragging along. Befriend someone else and show _them_ the stars instead.”

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. She lifted her eyes to meet his once again.

“I wouldn’t let go of you, Rose. Not because of that. Pack up and leave, your choice, but I’d never… You’re…” the Doctor trailed off, voice soft.

He would put up with her strays as often as she would like. He would guide them through the cosmos, brighten their dull eyes, and dip them through the potent mires of Time. Selfishly, he would bear every errant ache if he could just keep her a little longer. If he could hold her close to him—if he could carve his existence into her soul as vividly as she resides in his. 

“You’re…”

When he couldn’t finish, at a loss for a word that could ever possibly hope to describe what she meant to him, her lips twitched. “Replaceable?” she challenged, half jokingly, half not.

“No,” the Doctor shook his head. “Far from it, Rose Tyler. The complete opposite. One of a kind, you are.” 

Possessed by a whimsical, dangerously honest impulse, he raised their joined hands and turned them, elevating them level with his lips. Then, he pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips.

“Priceless,” he whispered.

* * *

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. 

The feel of the Doctor’s lips upon her fingers lit her nerves alight, suddenly sensitive to the feather-light touch of slightly chapped skin, the careful curve of a caring smile. It made her swallow, capturing an escaping heartbeat in one heavy gulp.

When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe… And, _oh_ , the look in his eyes… So focused. So familiar. So fond. 

Of her. 

Oh, God.

 _Priceless_ , he said. _Priceless,_ and he’d somehow embedded a single word with the weight of millions.

Wariness crawled its way through her heart, hand-in-hand with the hope that forged it. “Don’t,” she said softly, weakly, before she could stop herself. “Don’t look at me like that.”

The fondness in the Doctor’s expression melded with concern, and Rose realized how she must have sounded. 

“Like what?” he asked. His breath tickled the flesh of her hand and she fought goosebumps. He didn’t let go of her.

“Like—Like you…” _love me._

She blinked, then she shook her head once. To clear it. To rid herself of impossible ideas.

“Like you _like_ me or somethin’,” she offered instead, shifting into a teasing smile and hoping to dispel the odd atmosphere between them. It wasn’t the best deflection, but it was the quickest thinking she could really do at the moment.

The Doctor had been jealous, and while it both pleased and frustrated her in equal measure, she knew it wasn’t anything more than a little misplaced anxiety. Worried about losing his companion, his good _friend_ , and concerned for what that would mean for their adventures, he’d acted out. It reminded Rose of herself when she was younger, when she worried Shareen would forget all about her after hooking up with some new, exciting bloke she’d never met before.

The Doctor could be childish sometimes, as odd as it would seem. He encouraged childishness, madness, and youthful wonder in everyone he met, embodying all those aspects himself yet still somehow maintaining his hardened, war-torn visage. She loved that about him most of the time, loved every contradictory facet of who she’d come to know him as, but in this case… It hurt more than it ought.

Push and pull, it was—always was—with him. When he’d bring her close or say something brilliant enough to make her blush, Rose wasn’t sure if he was flirting for the hell of it, flirting because he meant it, or not even flirting at all.

Just like this very moment.

Instead of responding in kind to her lighthearted invitation for a bit of teasing, he remained solemn, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I do,” he said. “I think I like you a lot, Rose.”

The gravity behind his statement—the _way_ the words left his mouth felt… different. It almost felt as if he was confessing something more than a simple, harmless _liking._

Now she was the one who felt like a kid again.

“I do too,” she breathed. “Like you, that is.”

God, what was this conversation? He still had her hand lifted to his lips. Was she imagining it? The implications, the subtext? Does he know what he does to her?

They sounded like grade schoolers, but it didn’t matter. ‘Like’ was a lot easier to say than ‘love’. 

Even if he meant exactly what he said, she sure didn’t. She’d say anything at this point, because she felt a bit like a rag doll, all flopping about, with the words practically bursting through her seams. They coalesced in the most unwieldy places: heavy in her heart, circling through her head, dripping from her fingertips. “ _Have you eaten?”_ they’d ask. _“You feel okay?”_ they’d wonder. _“Better with two,”_ they’d say. _“You have me.”_

All careful substitutions for the three words she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say.

“You sure?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Way sure.”

The Doctor shifted their hands once more, this time planting a hearty kiss on her knuckles. His eyes sparkled, pleased with her response. When he flashed that familiar grin, a little bit silly on that serious face of his, she knew something in the air had broken.

“Fantastic,” he beamed.

The tension was gone, the moment had passed, and all dismissed by that mercurial manner of his. He seemed reassured, past jealousy all but forgotten, ready to move on. He dropped her hand and straightened. 

That’s that. Problem solved. Issues voiced and feelings reaffirmed. He liked her, she liked him, and their friendship would never waver because they would not let flighty romances get in their way. 

Was that it?

“We good?” Rose found herself asking, slightly dazed.

“Never better,” the Doctor responded goodnaturedly. “I’m sorry. You were right, Rose. I’m a bit stubborn, but you showed me how-to. Good on you. Communication!” he laughed. “Should’ve bothered sooner.”

She watched him. Watched the way his figure seemed to angle toward her, watched the way his body language always invited her closer. That leather jacket looked warm. He wore a wool jumper this time around, in a subdued shade of maroon. Rose could imagine how it felt beneath her fingers.

He started saying something again, but she was too busy thinking. Unlike the other times she was left to recover, heart woefully racing because of him, _for_ him, she couldn’t let this go. Not that easy. No.

He asked her something, and when she didn’t answer, he turned to her with caring, engaging eyes.

“Rose?”

There was only so much a girl could take. 

“Oh, _screw it,”_ she growled. To _hell_ with mixed signals. Rose Tyler grew up going with her gut, and her mum was always waxing poetic about listening to her heart. If the Doctor hadn’t been so special, so unique in his alienness, she would’ve done something ages ago, in the name of everything he made her feel.

Ignoring the confusion rapidly overtaking his expression, she slipped a hand under the Doctor’s leather jacket, hauling him to her with a firm tug at his waist. Then, she snaked her hands across his torso, palms gliding over the wool upon his chest and lingering, lovingly, over the double beat of his pulse. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

They’ve hugged before. They’ve even been squeezed tight in enclosed spaces, heart-to-hearts, lungs heaving together as they shared adrenaline-fueled breaths. This closeness wasn’t new.

But the intimacy was.

The Doctor stood rigid beneath her, frozen in shock. The fact wasn’t strong enough to discourage, as she had a mind to see things through, but it made her skin warm with something other than attraction, pierced her determination with anxiety.

Slowly—giving him plenty of time to recoil in disgust, to pull away, to push her off of him—she rose upon her tiptoes and leant her weight upon his. Inch by inch, their faces drew nearer. 

She watched him watch her, both of them thoroughly entranced, until their lips met in a halting kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack considered leaving. He really did. Hell, he was all for giving a(n extremely repressed) newfound couple some privacy, but… Damn _._

You’d be hard pressed to find a melodrama as good as their conversation anywhere in the universe, for crying out loud, so he’d settled down in an armchair and just let it play out. Time how long it would take until they realized he was still there. Relax a bit. Rubberneck, maybe. 

No, not maybe. _Definitely._

They probably forgot he was present eons ago. Soon as the Doc got off his pert butt and started making a run for it once again, good ol’ Jack faded off into the wallpaper. Or he would, if the TARDIS had wallpaper.

Jack grinned. It was great. He was truly, honestly happy for them.

He watched with rapt attention when they went head-to-head and unabashed fascination when they clung to each other. He also marveled at Rose’s tenacity, ever her heartfelt supporter, when she surged forward into the Doctor’s arms.

When they finally kissed… Jack almost couldn’t believe it. When that kiss evolved into something considerably less tentative, less exploratory, and more _passionate_ … He started questioning reality.

The Doctor remained unresponsive for a solid second or two before the tantalizing press of Rose’s soft lips finally coaxed him into action. His arms, then, quickly lifted to wrap around her, pressing her even more firmly against the wall of his body. Jack could see the Doctor’s disbelief in the way his fingers dug into the fabric of her sweater, the way they trembled to touch her in ways he’d never before allow. Palpable desire colored the air of the little bubble they’ve enclosed themselves within, and the soft sound of their increasingly labored breathing served as the soundtrack to the cathartic discovery of their hidden love.

Rose toyed with the scruff of hair at the back of the Doctor’s neck as they deepened the kiss, the Doctor’s hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his long fingers breaching through her blonde tresses as he tilted her head for more access, fitting together perfectly, finally, completely. He took her bottom lip between his teeth to nibble upon gently, but Rose lost patience, tongue darting free to entice his own. The Doctor immediately gave in to the temptation and Rose made a sound akin to an odd, yet endearing, mix between a moan and a giggle.

On second thought… Maybe Jack should leave them be, after all. They didn’t look like they were close to stopping any time soon. He’d since stopped counting how much time had passed since they’ve forgotten him.

Jack sighed, rising carefully from the armchair as unobtrusively as possible, proud of his two wonderful friends. Regret had no place within him, for while he loved and desired them both, he supported the relationship between them even more. 

There was something there. Something special, something Jack himself would struggle to find. He could feel it—similar to a more concrete sort of intuition—whenever he caught them sneaking glances, sharing silly smiles, and luxuriating in the other’s presence. Despite the reluctance to confess the depth of their regard on either side, Jack knew better. It was precisely for this reason he had given up courting Rose Tyler long ago, perceiving with clear, insightful eyes precisely how impossible the task would prove.

She was spoken for, however silently.

The knowledge dipped the Doctor’s earlier jealousy in a vaguely comical sort of irony. 

Careful to avoid the amorous couple still quite passionately engaged in oral fisticuffs, Jack made his way to the door. He spared them one last glance for good luck, witnessed Rose in the midst of running her hands through the Doctor’s short-cropped hair, and… Wait, was she tugging on his ears? 

The Doctor let out a low, rumbling growl. 

_Well then._

Jack wasn’t beyond admitting he’d wanted to hear that at some point, too. Atta girl, Rosie.

Returning back to the task at hand, Jack turned the knob, ready to give them plenty enough privacy to—he chuckled to himself— _really_ get down to business, should they come to require it.

He’d forgotten, however, that the doors in the TARDIS’ living quarters had a penchant for clicking when opened or shut. Only the Doctor ever really managed to exert the right amount of pressure, to twist his wrist in that perfect, practiced way that ensured the door a smooth, soundless swing. It was another one of the TARDIS’s many unique little quirks that spoke of both her age and character, granting her a sort of comforting, homey impression despite her power, her scientific capabilities. They were charming, gentle little flaws known to her passengers only through time spent aboard.

So, when Jack turned that tastefully, yet strangely, carved handle, the resulting _clack_ hit his eardrums clear and clean.

He cringed. Then he turned.

The Doctor and Rose met his sheepish gaze with wide, dazed eyes. 

* * *

“J-Jack,” Rose managed, red-lipped and kiss-swollen. Her voice was husky, bearing a slight, seductive rasp prevalent despite her surprise.

The sound of it shot the Doctor with an eclectic array of emotions: satisfaction at having caused that in her, annoyance that it wasn’t his name she had spoken, desire at the sound of it, and confusion as to why their mouths were far enough apart to speak.

“ _Jack?”_ the Doctor echoed, equally surprised, equally breathless. Not quite there yet. 

Jack greeted them, poised mid-exit. “Heyyy… You lovebirds. Got it in one! It’s yours truly.” He might have chuckled but he looked contrite, almost, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one snogging—

The Doctor’s mind cleared. His Rose-tinted glasses slipped, plonking right off his nose.

He turned rapidly, back to the warm body pressed against him. There she stood, his companion, caressed lovingly in his arms, staring back at him. A mirror of his own astonishment. A very, very close mirror.

Oh.

_Oh._

They drank in the sight of each other for a few more drunken drum beats, realization about what they’ve just done flooding through them like a shockwave. Rose’s sensuous, plush lips parted, perhaps to speak—

Jack cleared his throat. 

Their attention snapped back to him.

He observed their harried dispositions and smiled knowingly. “Well, you two clearly have other things you’d rather be doing! About time, if you ask me. Now, unless you want me to join in on the festivities—“ he shot them a cheeky wink—“I’m heading out. I’ll be in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, if you need me.”

Without waiting for a response from them, the Doctor watched as Jack opened the door completely and stepped through it. It clicked shut behind him. 

Then, just as fast, it swung back open. His head popped in, grinning. 

“And congratulations, you crazy kids! Don’t have _too_ much fun without me,” he joked. Then, he closed the door once again.

The Doctor and Rose watched the entrance for a few more seconds, but it stayed shut for good. Slowly, gingerly, their eyes found each other once more.

“That… Was interesting,” she said.

“Yep,” the Doctor replied. He couldn’t help but observe her mouth, follow the shape of her lips as she spoke.

“He said congratulations.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

She nodded absently. “We… We should… Thank him sometime.”

“We should.”

“Not now, though.”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, definitely not…”

“What d’you think we should do instead, then?”

She pressed closer, bringing their faces near once again. He found himself doing much the same, bowing his head to meet her half way.

“I don’t know.”

“We could… Uh, we… could…”

Her breath tickled his nose. His breath tickled hers.

“Yes?”

Their gazes were dark and smoldering with intent. Her pupils were dilated, captivating little black holes that distorted gravity itself, drawing him closer and sucking his soul into them, claiming him, keeping him.

“We could… Do… This,” Rose finished, and they pushed forward at once, the both of them. 

Their mouths clashed together carelessly in another kiss, somehow even more desperate than the last. Born from the barely-concealed frustration of being interrupted, they lost themselves in each other for the second time. The Doctor groaned in satisfaction, sensing Rose sigh against him, before entangling their tongues in a sybaritic dance, indulging in her taste, her warmth. 

Rose began to shift. Intent on keeping them together, he shifted with her, all the superior Time Lord senses he allowed himself focused solely upon the woman in his arms. He vaguely registered their shuffling feet, his innate spatial awareness informing him that they were moving, before he felt something thump against his calves and he sank backwards, onto the couch. 

Their lips still locked, Rose fell with him. Her legs crowded his sides as she straddled him. The solid weight of her upon his lap proved euphoric, intoxicating. His hands slid to grasp her hips, his thumbs slipping beneath her sweater to land upon her soft, pliant skin and she moaned, a pleasing sound.

Oddly enough, that’s what did it. In sync, they pulled themselves apart with a gasp and she rested her forehead upon his own.

Her blonde hair framed the periphery of his vision like a curtain. Both of their chests were heaving. After a few beats of merely basking in each other’s presence, the Doctor broke the silence.

“Rose…” he said, voice hoarse.

“Doctor,” she whispered. 

She lifted her head to properly face him. The light glinted off her hoop earrings. 

“Rose,” he repeated, this time less throaty. Gaining coherence.

“Doctor,” she repeated as well, her tone slightly more amused.

He caught it, clearly, and a grin gradually began to blossom on his face. “Rose Tyler,” he beamed.

She matched him, grin for grin. “Doctor, er… Smith? _The_ Doctor?” She paused, pouting. “Oh, s’not fair, you don’t _have_ a last name.”

That tickled. Only a little bit, but it was enough. He chuckled, and that chuckle soon turned into laughter. She joined him, shoulders shaking with mirth, and they descended into a fit of giggles, clutching each other in their elation.

He was high, as high as he’s been in centuries. For the first time in far too long, surviving stopped being a curse. If living meant experiencing something as wondrous as this, he was glad to be alive, even if just for the moment.

He loved being with her.

Calming down, they righted themselves so they both sat up straight, although she seemed perfectly content to remain atop him. He was perfectly content to let her, honestly.

“You kissed me,” the Doctor said.

“Indeed I did, Doctor,” Rose smiled. “And you kissed back.”

“Best decision I’ve made yet.”

Rose nodded seriously. “I must concur.”

“Putting on airs?” he teased.

“Mm, nope,” she said. “The opposite. I’m losin’ my mind.”

“That good?”

Her smile turned impish. “You’re a great kisser, y’know. Oh,” she rolled her eyes, “I see that look. Don’t let it get to your head!”

“It got to yours,” he said, and if his pride bled a bit into his smile, well… 

She sighed in mock exasperation, but even that did little to dim the happy glow on her face. She hugged him. 

He hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while now,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his neck.

“So did I.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Her single, human heart. Beautiful, but so much weaker than his. Not built to last.

And with that, he remembered. 

Like harsh winter rain intruding upon a sultry summer day, his inhibitions slithered their way back within him. They were cruel little remnants of reality that clung to him like chains, sobering away his merriment.

“I didn’t want to scare you away,” he said.

She snorted. “Do I look like I’m running for my life right now, Doctor?”

“No, but you should be.”

His voice had changed. She pulled away. “Why would you say that?” she asked. Her brows knitted together, and the Doctor could see concern begin to replace her contentment. 

“I’m…” he began, but then he shook his head. Restarted. “You deserve better, that’s all.” 

Sensing the protest about to come his way, he made to elaborate. 

“Nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of existence. And do you know what I’ve learnt?”

“What?”

“Everything comes and goes. _‘Nothing gold can stay,’_ and you, Rose, shine the brightest, most beautiful gold I have ever seen.” He raised his right hand, gently brushing away stray strands, cupping her cheek. “I can’t promise us a future. Not together, not for long, and certainly not with your safety guaranteed. You deserve better than that. You deserve your human happily ever after, with someone who can stand by your side and stay.”

Her eyes glistened with moisture. “And that someone isn’t you?”

“No. Not me.”

“So, why? Why’ve you kept me around for this long? Why _didn’t_ you scare me away?” Her voice was breaking, betraying her willfulness with its weakness. “Why did you let me kiss you?”

The Doctor let out a shaky breath. “A bit stupid, I am. No, _more_ than a bit.” He dropped his hand, letting it fall to his side. Already, it longed to touch her once more. “It’s ‘cause I wanted to, Rose. Every minute I’m around you, even now, I want nothin’ more than to kiss you soundly and forget everything else. Even if it means I’ll… Even if it means it’ll be harder to let you go once I do.”

She ducked her head, resting it against his shoulder. Her own shoulders, tensed from her impromptu interrogation, slumped. “You called yourself stupid. That’s a first,” she told his jacket. “You like me that much, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Being with you… I’m the best I’ve been in years.”

“An’ you regret all this? ‘Cause it’ll break my heart?” 

“Yes.”

“Even if you’re happy when you’re with me?”

He paused. “Yes.”

“Then do it, Doctor.”

“What?”

“Do it. Break my heart.” She lifted her head off his shoulder and took his hand. Squeezed it. “If I have to let you go at some point, break my heart into mingy little pieces. _Shatter it_.”

“Excuse me?”

Fixing her gaze unto him, heavy, serious, laden with terrifying sincerity, she spoke: “You heard me. Take those little pieces of my heart and crush them under your feet, even. Go nuts. Make it so that I’ll never forget you. Be my greatest heartache, Doctor.”

She smiled sadly. Then, with her free hand, she gently eased the crease in his brow. 

“‘Cause I know I’ll be yours.”

He opened his mouth to deny her, but nothing came out. He could only find it in himself to listen, at a loss for words amidst the tumultuous emotions she excited within him.

“Or at least one of them, anyway. Blimey, you’ve got baggage,” Rose added teasingly. “Ah, but… As long as I’m here,” she promised, “you won’t have to carry it alone.”

He knew what she was doing. He knew what she was trying to say. It was too late, she meant; they’ve already fallen too far, irredeemably intertwining themselves in each other’s lives, turning their solitary red strings into a tangled ball of fate. No matter what they did, or when they would come to separate, they would mourn each other nonetheless. Now it was a matter of what they did in the meantime. How they spent their moments together before the universe finally finds it apt to pull them apart.

She wanted to go down swinging. She was prepared to pay the consequences. His mind echoed that realization over and over again.

Rose observed him, however, waiting for his response. After a few seconds, wherein he just stared at her, she started getting worried.

“Doctor?” she said, and it was the concern in her voice that finally did it, the affection that tinged the syllables with enchanting care. It was the lovely sound of her name upon his lips, something only Rose could create. 

_Doctor_.

He’d miss hearing it. He’d miss her.

Something in him gave. 

If he knew their time was short, he was going to take as much of her as he could. Drown himself in greed, allow himself this taste of happiness. It was forbidden knowledge, but they’ve come too far to feign ignorance. He would believe in her, heedless of the price to pay.

His Rose. Salvation with a sacrifice.

Silently, he took her face in both his hands and guided it down toward his own. As tenderly as he could manage, he conveyed his resolution with a press of their lips. A promise sealed with a kiss. 

This kiss lacked the urgency that characterized the last two, and instead of igniting her hunger, the Doctor felt her melt against him, hopeful, at ease. No longer did they fumble for each other with eager hands or devour each other with a heady sigh; every touch remained a reverent caress, mouths bestowing wordless assurances upon the other.

The Doctor broke away only to place one last devoted kiss on her cheek, his hands finding their place upon her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the favor, eyelashes fluttering against his skin like dark butterfly wings.

“You have a way of surprising me,” he whispered. “Sayin’ the strangest things.”

“I could say the same about you, Mr. Alien Man,” she chuckled.

“Oh, but that’s different. That’s just me bein’ clever.”

“Maybe,” she said. She gave him his customary ‘ _whatever floats your ego-boat’_ look before shifting into something a little more serious, questioning. “But really, Doctor. Does this mean what I think it does? ‘Cause if it doesn’t, and you just gave me the sweetest kiss in my life, ever, just to reject me—“

“Yeah, it does,” he interrupted with a small laugh. “I give in. You won me over. ‘M all yours.”

Relief washed through her. “Yeah?” she smiled.

“Absolutely. Rose Tyler, I…” 

The Doctor trailed off. Took a breath. Let the humor fall from him. 

He had to say this right, with just the right amount of gravity, with enough certainty that she wouldn’t question his sincerity. Moving to stroke her hair and watching the soft strands flow from his fingers, he finally allowed his affection for her to completely seep past his defenses, radiate from his very being.

It manifested in the words he spoke.

“I love you,” he said.

Rose… froze.

Finely attuned to her, the Doctor could hear her breath catch, sense her pulse quicken. She sat rigid and her arms tightened imperceptibly behind him, as if she hadn’t expected him to ever confess it at all. Her open expression revealed to him the obvious question running through her head: had she heard correctly?

He smiled tenderly. 

“Rose, I love you,” he tried again. “I love you very, very much.”

It was like everything came unlocked. She blinked once at him, before sagging against him with a lung-deep exhale.

She ducked her head, chuckling breathlessly, incredulously.

“I’ve wanted to hear that—I thought—with all your moaning, I thought it’d take you longer,” she stumbled. Then, she exhaled again, her cheeks pink. “God, Doctor, I wasn’t ready for that. Reckon I’d have to wait, y’know, ‘cause, ‘cause… Sayin’ it makes it all…”

“Real?”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed. “Makes it _more._ More than a bit of snoggin’. I thought you’d be afraid.”

His eyes sparkled with joy. “I’m going all in, Rose. All or nothing, with you.”

“Goin’ out with a bang?” she offered, grinning.

“Exactly. We’re goin’ out with a bang, you and me.”

“God, _finally,”_ she said. Then she pulled back, her arms outstretched between them. Her voice turned soft.

“I love you too,” she beamed.

* * *

They really did find Jack in the kitchen. He was sitting there by the table, chewing on a banana with his nose in a book, hot cup of coffee within reach. By the looks of it, he’d even finished some buttered toast.

Thankfully enough, it wasn’t hard to reach him. A quick mental once-over revealed to the Doctor that the TARDIS was content and the rooms were located where they were meant to be. The labyrinth was no more, much to his companions’ relief, and that vague sense of disapproval his ship had been constantly sending his way for the last forty-and-a-half hours abated.

When Jack saw them, he greeted them with wide arms and a suggestive grin. “Why, if it isn’t my favorite couple!” he exclaimed grandly, emphasis on the word _‘couple’_.

Rose giggled and the Doctor rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, before they both thanked him for his discretion and caught him up on their plans. 

They were thinking about stopping at one of those resort planets the Doctor mentioned before, and they wanted Jack’s final opinion on which one. It was an opportunity to let loose. Relaxation Plan B to stave off labyrinth-induced cabin fever. The Doctor, a little guiltily, proposed they try the ‘stay-at-home’ option another time.

After they made their choice (a tropical little dwarf planet with pastel sand, decadent fruit, and a rousing nightlife), they filtered into the console room. There, the Doctor spotted his lost sonic screwdriver poised innocently on the jump seat, almost as if he’d simply left it behind. Casually picking it up and slipping it into his pocket, he thanked his precious timeship and set their flight into motion.

If their landing was a bit softer than they expected that time around, well, who knows? Perhaps the Doctor’s good mood attributed to his driving skills. Perhaps the TARDIS was feeling kind.

The pair lingered behind, allowing Jack to walk ahead of them and eagerly, yet cautiously, peek through the doors. Grabbing Rose’s hand, the Doctor smiled at her and catalogued her answering grin into memory. She was going to have fun, and he would make sure of it. Not just on this one trip, either, but for every single trip to come, now and forever, for as long as forever would allow. Be it for the rest of her life or the next few months, he would leave her smiling, even if it meant giving all of himself to guarantee it.

He swore, with or without him in it, Rose Tyler was going to have a fantastic life.


End file.
